Sensations
by Floydfan22
Summary: Castiel is utterly alone and numbed by cold, and not only the cold warranted by the weather, but the cold lingering inside of him. He would pity himself, but in his mind, he deserved this pain. He deserved to be alone. sick!Cas and very mild Destiel.


**My first ever story on this account has officially been written! (shoots confetti)Oh yeah. Disclaimer. If I owned Supernatural, Cas would still be in the bunker and team free will would still be together! How's that for a disclaimer? Anyways, I decided to start with a oneshot. I'm not all that good at committing my time to multi-chapter fics, so oneshots is is. Maybe I'll write longer stories later. Please enjoy to the best of your ability! This is a Cas-centric fic, and there's slight Destiel if you squint. **

* * *

_Sensation_

Castiel stood silently in the dim light of the street lamp, icy rain pelting his numbed skin. Cold. The feeling of being numb. These were both such strange sensations to the former angel, and he was finding them rather unpleasant. Castiel stared up at the darkened sky, and his soaked body began to tremble against his will. He tried to cease his shaking, but his now human body was betraying him, and he only shook harder, his teeth chattering together. He wrapped his arms around himself, his frozen fingers knitting into his wet red-hooded sweatshirt. When he'd first swiped the sweatshirt, he'd found it to be quite warm and comforting, but now it proved to be useless in these harsh conditions.

He wondered to himself how this could possibly be happening to him.

_No, _he thought bitterly, _you deserve this suffering. You deserve this pain, especially after all the pain you've brought upon others. _

He remembered a time when he deemed himself as strong and determined. He had once possessed such power and greatness, but in actuality, that power had clouded his vision. He was blinded by his own false judgement, and he had thoughtlessly killed innocent people. Not only people, but family. Hundreds of angels had died at his hand, and by the time he realized his wrong doings, it was too late. Grief hit him hard, mixed with an unimaginable guilt that pressed on his chest like slabs of stone. With that pent up guilt came a strong sense of self-loathing that was impossible to get rid of. Even after so much time had gone by, that self-hatred lingered, that underlying guilt refusing to leave.

Now the angels had fallen, and once again, he was to blame. His good intentions had only caused chaos, just as they had before.

He truly believed he deserved this. He deserved to feel agony. He deserved to be human. He deserved to be alone.

When Dean had told him he couldn't stay at the bunker, he had initially been hurt by these dreaded words, but now he realized why Dean did it. It made sense when he ran it over in his fogged up mind.

_I am utterly useless now. I only present a threat upon him and those he loves. I would just be another person for him to save. It's better that I'm not there. He doesn't need me. _

Salty tears ran down his reddened cheeks, mixing with the rain that continued to fall from the angry heavens above. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel his knees when they hit the concrete below. He couldn't feel his face when it dropped into a dirty puddle of rain upon the ground. He couldn't feel his glassy blue eyes slip shut, nor could he feel the wheezing in his lungs.

He only felt alone.

* * *

His was awakened by more sensations, but unlike before, these sensations were comforting and inviting. His whole body was covered in warmth, except for a soothing coolness on his forehead. He was no longer soaked and trembling under a street lamp. He attempted to open his eyes, but they felt heavy with fatigue, and he only managed to make them flutter before they closed again. He wondered briefly if he was in heaven, but quickly discarded the idea when he realized how improbable it was. After all he'd done, there was no doubt in his mind that he was going straight to hell when he died. And he would die one day. He knew that now.

He pushed all thoughts of death and hell out from his mind for the time being. Before all else, had had to figure out where he was. He tried opening his eyes again and was able to hold them open this time, though it was still difficult. He slowly turned his head to take in his surroundings, but he was unpleasantly surprised to find his neck was stiff. He tried shifting his arms beneath the blankets, but found they were just as achy as his neck. He ignored the annoying aching in his limbs and blinked away the sleep in his eyes. When his surroundings came into focus, he was shocked to see a room that he'd been in before.

"Cas?"

As the familiar voice reached his ears, his body tensed, and his eyes widened. Could he really be here, and could that voice really belong to who he thought it belonged to?

A face he knew all too well entered the room, but it was etched with worry, and Castiel didn't like the look. He liked when that face was smiling and carefree, but that was a rarity he'd only witnessed a few times sine meeting the man.

"Dean." His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, and that one word set hot flames upon his throat. More awful sensations. He coughed weakly and his eyes slipped shut again.

"Woah woah woah. No, don't fall asleep again. C'mon man. Stay awake."

He felt warm hands cup his face, one of those hands moving up to fall on his forehead. He absentmindedly leaned into the touch.

"Shit. Sam!"

The sound of shoes sprinting across the hard floor.

"He's awake?"

It was a different voice this time, but still a familiar one.

"Yeah. Well, he was. Dammit Cas, c'mon.

_Sam. Dean. Both of them are here. Why do they sound so worried? Why are they so scared? _

The brothers continued to talk to one another, one voice sounding more panicked than the other. The voices moved in and out as Castiel moved in and out of consciousness. There was a cold pressure on his neck and head, and he shivered at the contact, attempting, and failing, to shove the cold off his face. He was so cold already. Why would they want to make him more cold? Maybe it was punishment. Yes, it had to be, for all the mistakes he'd made.

Dean spoke softly but firmly to him,"I'm sorry Cas, but they have to stay on. That temperature's gotta come down. Just hang in there buddy. You're gonna be fine."

Despite his words, Dean sounded uncertain.

Now Castiel was... confused. Dean sounded frightened, and he didn't like that tone of voice on the hunter. It didn't fit him. But why did he sound frightened?

_Is he frightened for me? _

Castiel couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and he gave into his fatigue, Dean's panicked orders to stay awake fading away.

* * *

Castiel sighed in content as the warm broth of the soup ran down his healing throat. Having to eat was a negative factor that came with being human, but eating itself was quite enjoyable.

"So, how's it taste?" asked Dean, who was currently sitting in a chair by the bed flipping through one of his magazines.

"Very satisfying," Castiel replied hoarsely, taking another sip.

Dean nodded and sent him a half smile. "That's Campbell's right there. It some pretty top quality stuff."

"I agree. Thank you."

"No problem."

They sat in content silence once more, Castiel eating his soup and Dean reading, until Dean spoke up.

"I'm not angry at you, ya know."

The former angel looked up from his bowl. "I'm sorry?"

Dean's green eyes locked with Castiel's blue ones, and he gave him a very serious yet very concerned expression. "When you were sick a couple days ago, you kept talking in your sleep, and..." Dean looked away, waving a hand dismissively. "Your fever was really high, so you were probably just mumbling a bunch of random crap. I don't know."

"What-" Castiel swallowed, "What did I say?"

Dean shrugged, as if to say it wasn't a big deal, but Castiel knew that look on Dean's face.

"You said something about me being angry at you. That, and something about being useless." Dean glanced at him again, and expression went back to serious immediately after the last sentence. "You know you're not useless, right?"

Castiel only blinked in response. Dean didn't think he was useless. Dean had cared enough about him to bring him in and care for him, and now he was trying to convince him of his own value.

_But why, after he forced me away, would he want me back? Is this something humans normally do?_

"Cas? You with me bud?"

Castiel shook his head slightly, coming back to reality.

"Uh, yes. Yes, I'm here Dean."

"Good. I hope you don't plan on leaving again." Dean looked down at his magazine. "I don't want to have to haul your sick ass out of the rain again."

Though it was said in a humorous manner, Castiel found a greater meaning behind those words, and he was touched that Dean had said them.

He was feeling another new sensation now, one he couldn't place.

It was a wonderful sensation though, and he clung to it, suddenly very grateful of his new-found humanity.

* * *

**That's all folks! Well, that's all until I write more stories anyways. Hopefully I will write more in the near future, once I have more ideas. I hope you enjoyed this little Cas fic. He's always been my favorite on Supernatural. Poor guy goes through hell, doesn't he? I suppose everyone goes through hell on that show though, literally! Haha... ha... Have a nice day. Review if you can! **


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